Anarchic
by elisuni
Summary: Dick knew he wasn't strong enough. But he was going to be anyway. (AU)
1. Prologue

**ION (I Own Nothing)**

Dick knew he wasn't strong enough.

He was hurt. His whole body was broken, but the world still fell around him, crashing and burning as the last sparks of life were hunted mercilessly by the abyss of night.

He struggled to his feet, every breath rocking him and causing his insides to curl and writhe. Dick leaned against the old and broken wall as he inched along, barely strong enough to put one foot in front of the last.

But he had to do this. It was the only way. The only way he'd be able to stop it. The only way he would be able to end this all, and make it stop. He knew he'd end up dead. He knew his chances were less than slim.

It didn't matter, though. In the grand scheme, it was his life for hers. His life for the world's. And that was okay. As long as they'd be okay, as long as he'd be able to salvage the last wreckage of this war-torn and blood-stained world, that was _okay_.

The smooth stone passed away from his bloodied and burned hands as he inched along, coming out on the other side to enter a chasm of a fight. Heroes, civilians, villains, dreamers, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, everyone and everything lay dead on the ground, the last of their life slowly washed away by the fiery rain descending upon the hot landscape.

The last who stood were fighting or running. Living, or dying while trying. But Dick knew. You could never outrun it. It would always catch you. Change you. Mold and break you.

He stumbled through the corpses and death, through the brambles and hot ashes, to the source. The whirling center of it all. He choked as the dry wind stole his breath, threatening to take what little he had left.

"Stop!" his throat was dry and cracked, and he could feel it wetting with blood as forced the word. No one heard him, but he couldn't stop. His life for hers, his life for the world's. "STOP! Take me! Take- take me... instead..." it weaned out by now, but it was enough.

He sighed in relief as pain washed over him. It had been painful before, but this was beyond agony. Beyond torture. Yet... it was so relieving. So calming to know it would all be over, soon. All be peaceful. All be calm, all be...

 _quiet._

* * *

 **Umm...?**

 **I don't know. Just an AU I randomly thought up. You guys have no idea what's going on. I'm sorry. Tell me of you want more, reviews help, but eh... it's all good. Bye!**


	2. Expia

_**This Chapter is for special people I've met who hurt so much, yet still press on.**_

 **-Redemption is not just about the survival of our soul. It's about the revival of a soul that was once dead.-**

Lights blinked in and out of his sight, a flurry of dots overlapping and contrasting in opacity and illumination.

This went on for what felt like forever, a state of half consciousness and half delirium. Blinking colors winked in out of sight, throwing his already whirling head into a chaotic mess as it tried to sort what it simply could _not_.

The lights blinked and flickered, distinguishing themselves into separate colors of hexagon-shaped pricks. He groaned as they slowly sharpened into life, time pulling the minutes into what seemed like forever- fitting together to make a picture his mind could comprehend.

His eyes flashed wide as he realized he was _alive_. Awake. _Aware_.

He sat up bolt-right, ignoring the agony that tore at him as his muscles bent. Cold sweat poured down around him as his eyes ran around his surroundings, seeing but not quite understanding. His mind didn't seem to be working, clogged and misted with memories and inner demons he couldn't quite grasp.

His head snapped around before he registered why it did. It turned out to be a voice, mumbling as it drew closer. He didn't know if the voice was safe or not, though. But how could he decide when he didn't even understand what it was saying?

He tried to pull to his feet, but his legs wouldn't obey, pain raising through him as terror pierced his heart. He frantically pushed with his hands, falling off the cot he was on moments before with a painful _thump_.

He tried grasping along with his hands, but found in his fall the blanket had wound around him, trapping him in a cocoon. He squirmed his torso, trying to fight the foe that encased him... despite it being only a thin, white duvet.

The mumbling grew louder as the door burst open, voices rising to a shout as he fought desperately to get away. He was going up before he sensed the hands that brought him to the new height. He didn't know what was wrong with his senses. Or his legs. Or _him_.

He vaguely registered being pressed close to something, or some _one_ , before the sheet was unwound from his face. His sight fazed for a moment before the light pieced itself together to create a face.

There was a numbing humming sound coming from somewhere as he lost all ability or drive to fight.

The face above him appeared to be in a state of relief, wonder, excitement, confusion, fear, and hope. A thousand emotions danced across the brown eyes bowing over him.

He felt safe. He didn't know what the face was, and he honestly didn't care if it ended up getting him killed. He was _just so tired_...

 **This happened for mo** nths.

Blinking in before falling back. Piecing together only to fall apart. Every time, the same brown eyes watched him. Every time, he felt safe only when he saw them.

He hurt so _bad_. Everything was coiling and pushing his nerves. That's one of the few things he knew when he had brief spells of consciousness.

Then the world would fuzz out. Blackness, before light started to dance back. Then pain. Then the face. Then darkness. It felt like it would never stop, a forever round of delirium and agonizing discomfort.

That was until this time.

This time as the pain raged his body, he _saw_. He didn't just see, he _understood._

A room.

No windows let light in, yet it was undeniably bright. The cot was soft and creamy white, a thin duvet tucked firmly around him and mingling with the sheets and his white clothing. He was warm, not hot, but warm to the point of indescribable bliss.

He mumbled, sitting up and holding his head, soft hair falling through his fingers and into his eyes. It was white. He played with the strand for a minute, light bouncing off the snowy lock as he twisted it between shaky and unused fingers.

He looked up after a while, straight into a pearly lens on the far wall. He cocked his head a while as he stared at it, before limply falling back down and tightening his torso to pull his legs towards him, whimpering in fear as the legs themselves refused to respond.

Voices started to approach, growing steadily louder as he pressed into the sheets, knowing that his attempt to hide within them would fail.

The door swung open, not loud on its hinges but banging into the wall as people rushed in, three in total. But he wasn't focused on the other two, eyes locked on the only thing he knew- the brown eyes.

They widened, and for the first time, he was able to take the whole person in. It was a man, probably late twenties, possibly early thirties. His tall, broad form was fitted with some sort of red and black uniform of stiff leather, his hair short and neatly cropped in a auburn-red hue.

The man rushed forward, gingerly settling himself on the bed and gently taking him in his arms. He let the man, leaning in and staring up.

"Who are you?" he asked, or tried to. His mouth made words, but no sound was emitted. His throat was scratched and dry, refusing to let a sound other than harsh air pass through.

"Shh, shh... It's ok..." the man bowed his head over the boy in his arms.

He trusted the man with the brown eyes, but he still wanted to know, forcing his throat even harder. "Who are you?" still no sound, but the man seemed to recognize the words.

"N-no, no, no, no, no..." he muttered, raising a hand to the boy's cheek, hesitating just before making contact. "Do you... not know me?"

He stared, perplexed. He knew the brown eyes, he knew them, but... no. He didn't know the owner of brown eyes that he'd grown to cherish as his lifeline.

The man wiped away tears, shaking a little and nodding. "I-I'm Harper. You're... Expia."

He let those words wash over him, taking them in and treasuring them. He had a _name_. He blinked, looking at Harper, who was trying to retrieve his long-lost stony expression, mouthing Expia silently.

That was his name.

 _Expia._

* * *

 _ **Give life a second chance. It gave you one.**_

 _Just a fair warning- this is a test story. I'm making no commitments to continue. Support helps, though.  
_

 _I don't own nor make profit._


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